


chasing love

by byAlessandra



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jos Verstappen's A+ Parenting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:55:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29803947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byAlessandra/pseuds/byAlessandra
Summary: Daniel doesn’t treat love like it’s a sharp piece of glass that can slice you open any time you touch it in the wrong way, and Max wants to be able to treat it like that too.or: reflecting on Max's first race without his dad
Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo & Max Verstappen, Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen
Kudos: 69





	chasing love

**Author's Note:**

> this came to my mind after listening to this song, no other explanations honestly
> 
> Song: chasing by NF
> 
> also I don't really know when the first race was that Jos got banned from (in 2017? I think) and I'm v sure Daniel's parents weren't there so yeah this is not accurate, but it's fiction anyway soo :)

_Always likes a sad trip_ _  
__And ruin all my friendships_ _  
__Way too many questions in my mind_ _  
__I don't have the answers but I try_ _  
__Holdin' my head up high, but it's not workin', yeah_ _  
__Makin' you sad makes me feel like a bad person_

Love.

That one feeling that every human being knows about. 

Everyone loves. Something, someone. 

Max loves racing, for example. Always has, probably always will. He loves his mum and his sister, and they love him too. He loves his dad, and in some fucked up way his dad loves him too.

He knows that love differs, for pretty much everyone and everything. In Max’s family love isn’t shown a lot. There are no ‘love you’ s every day, in fact, Max can count on his ten fingers how many times he has heard these words. There were no goodbye or good morning kisses on the forehead and hugs are a rare occasion. That’s how Max grew up, and he never thought that it was weird.

After all it’s not like he ever knew anything else. Till he saw other families, saw how affectionate they all are with each other without even thinking about it. Touching almost seems like _necessity_ to them.

It threw Max off even more when he got into F1 and not just family members were this touchy with each other. It happened everywhere around him; between the team members, between the teammates and practically every driver. 

A firm handshake, a pat on the back, a ruffle through the hair. An arm slung around the others shoulder, a little jab to the side, a soft knock from one elbow to the other. A hug. 

Casual, normal. No one spares these things a second thought. They come naturally, instinctively. 

Not to Max. 

His mom is one of the only people who ever touched him gently, who showed the most affection and love towards him. But she only dared to do it when his father wasn’t around.

_“You are softening him with that crap! I’m not raising a pussy, I’m raising a man!”_

These words are still embedded in Max’s mind from the time he heard them when he was six years old. They stuck.

His father was never gentle. Max isn’t even sure if he knows the definition of that word. 

Jos is all harsh words, cold stares and painful hits. 

So, getting into F1 and seeing all of that, seeing the way the drivers interact with each other and their families – it makes Max realize that maybe, his childhood wasn’t all that normal like he thought. It makes him feel weird and out of place, especially when he flinches whenever someone moves too quickly around him and he gets frowns in response to his reactions.

Max tries, he really does. Tries to relax when someone has their arm around his shoulders, tries to force himself to not stiffen when he gets hugged. He is working on the flinching part, too, although it feels like he has no power over it whatsoever.

But he keeps on working on it. He wants to know what it feels like; to give and accept love so easily, so naturally.

And yet he feels like he will never know how to do that. 

Maybe, he doesn’t deserve love. Or maybe, love just simply isn’t for him. 

But if that’s the truth, then why does his heart hammer so painfully hard in his chest every time he sees affection being given to him, and he just declines it? It’s like he holds out his hands asking for love, but when someone grants him some, he just passes it up. Every time, over and over again until people think he doesn’t want it. 

Most people turn around and decide to never hand him anything anymore, and he understands them, he really does. Why would you give someone something when it seems like they don’t want it? 

And so he doesn’t really get why Daniel of all people still sticks around, why he tries to keep on giving Max love without being bothered by the fact that Max usually pulls away from it. Daniel has so many people who’d give their right arm to be given some affection from him, and yet he keeps giving that affection to Max, who acts like he doesn’t want it.

Max also doesn’t really get why exactly he feels like he can accept Daniel’s offer the most, or why he feels the most at ease with him. All he knows is that he just does.

Daniel is also the first person that makes Max want to reach out and just casually sling an arm around his shoulders or give him a quick hug after a good race. Maybe it’s also because Daniel for a lot of times is the first to initiate those things, or because he doesn’t treat Max like he is different when he flinches back from a too fast movement. 

Daniel doesn’t treat love like it’s a sharp piece of glass that can slice you open any time you touch it in the wrong way, and Max wants to be able to treat it like that too.

… yet again, he never manages to do so. He always treats love like it’s the worst weapon in the world, because he is _scared_ of its power and what it can do. Love always cuts the deepest, always leaves the worst scars. He doesn’t want any more scars than his body is already littered in.

He wants people to be afraid of hurting him, and so he figured that people need to be afraid of loving him.

For most of the time, it works. Being an asshole, cold and arrogant and grim, drives people away and even less people try when it becomes a reputation that arrives in the places he goes to before he physically steps a foot in there.

Some people are more persistent than others, some give up right away, and some try longer in an attempt to eventually crack his shell open.

But Max Verstappen doesn’t crack, not under pressure and not under anything else.

Then, there is Daniel. The cheery Australian whose smile battles with the intensity of the sun itself, who always has a stupid joke to tell with the knowledge that people will laugh no matter what, sometimes simply because it’s _him._

Everyone likes Daniel, it’s almost impossible not to. Another reason why Max just can’t understand why Daniel makes such an effort to be around him.

Not that he complains, he actually genuinely enjoys being around Daniel. It’s easy because Daniel always knows how to fill any silence between them and so it never gets awkward, which is something that happens to Max most of the time. He just doesn’t know what he is supposed to talk about other than racing. _Hi, how is your dog doing?_ Bullshit, as if anyone really cares. Daniel however always finds something to joke about, or he sings, or he dances around like the hyperactive idiot he is – there just isn’t any space left around Dan to feel awkward.

Usually, Max likes it. He sometimes even finds himself seeking out to Dan, although most of the time Daniel is the one who comes over first. Max wishes he could do that too without feeling like he is too clingy or annoying.

Today, however, he wishes that Daniel wouldn’t try to be around him as much. It’s weird, because today he should actually feel like he can just walk over to his teammate’s side of the garage and talk to him without feeling two cold eyes staring at him, silently telling him to get his ass back to his own side and focus on his work. But he doesn’t feel like he can handle Daniel’s loud laughter and constant stream of nonsense right now – as much as he likes it on other days. He thinks his head might explode if he’d have to deal with it. But Daniel just ignores the fact that Max is blatantly turning around and away from him every time their eyes meet, or that he acts like he is super busy looking over the car data in front of him. He feels even worse when he glances over and sees Dan laughing with his parents, who decided to come watch this exact race. Max curses them, although he knows Grace and Joe are nice people. Maybe that’s the problem; how nice they are. How lovingly they treat their son and how excited they are when he explains something to them. How Joe’s hand lays on Daniel’s shoulder and instead of Daniel ducking away, he leans into the touch, into the comfort of his father.

It stings in Max’s chest, as if someone keeps on poking his heart with a sharp needle time and time again. When Daniel catches his eyes once more, he gives him a short nod with an inviting smile, signaling him to come over. Max turns away again, feeling like a prick the second he does. But he doesn’t want to see it, doesn’t want to see Daniel and his happy parents and their easy-going conversations and touches. It’s like the universe wants to rub it into his face, as thick as cement.

_Here, look at this, this is what everyone else has but you’ll never even get a glimpse of it. Hah._

He goes through his usual routine as the race start come nearer and nearer but somehow he feels just like a robot during all of it. He sees Christian approaching him, and his wish that the team principal isn’t headed towards him doesn’t get granted.

“Max.”, Christian gives him a smile and Max just nods. “How are you doing? You feeling alright?”

Max shrugs. “Yeah, sure. All good.”

What else is he supposed to tell Christian? _I feel empty, but I also want to punch a hole into the wall because I can’t stand the whole world right now?_

Yeah, thanks but no. He’d probably be advised to go see a therapist.

Christian knows him well enough to know that he will not get anything else out of Max. The walls are up, and there is no use in trying to tear them down.

“Okay. If you need anything, you can talk to me, alright?”

Max just gives him another nod and mumbles out a “Thanks.”

He turns around and heads towards his drivers room, feeling almost desperate to just sit down, stare at a wall and just try and think nothing for a few minutes. 

“Max!”

Max wants to heave out a deep sigh and for a second, he thinks about just keep on walking and acting like he didn’t hear Daniel, but then his teammate is already next to him. 

Max stops and forces himself to smile for Daniel. He can at least try to act like it’s all alright for him.

“You running away from me?”, Daniel asks with a grin and he lightly punches Max in the shoulder in a playful manner.

Max swallows and crosses his arms in front of his chest. _Yeah, actually._

Instead he shrugs. “No, I just saw that your parents are here, and I didn’t want to interrupt you guys.”

“Oh nah, mate. You should have come over; my parents would’ve loved to meet you.”

Max takes in a deep breath, not sure of what to reply for a moment. “Uhm, yeah- next time, okay?”

Daniel just gives him another wide smile, looking actually excited. “Sure, maybe we’ll find time after the race.”

Max can only hope that there won’t be any time. He thinks about turning around and walking away again, for god’s sake he just wants ten minutes to his own, is that too much to ask for?

But then Daniel keeps on talking before he can slip away. “I just saw you talking to Christian, what did he want?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh come on, so now our little Dutch Wonderboy is getting pre-race pep talks from our boss? What a privilege man, he rarely comes to me before a race.”, Daniel jokes lightheartedly, and Max feels his throat go dry. He tries this best to not grind his teeth together. He despises that ‘Wonderboy’ title. There isn’t any wonder about him or his success – it’s all hard work and sacrifice.

“Something like that, yeah.”, he says, still trying to keep being nice because he knows that Daniel is just joking and trying to light up the situation.

“Wait, did he tell you which turn to take me out on?”, Daniel just keeps on talking, and Max just keeps on feeling like his head will explode, or like his heart will beat out of his chest if his thoughts won’t stop racing any second soon. 

He just hums and Daniel fakes a pout. “Oh come on, you’re really just gonna leave me hanging with this-“

“Will you just fucking leave it, okay?!”, Max suddenly snaps at him, loud enough to make GP and some other engineers near them turn around and look them. Daniel shrinks back, eyes widened and mouth agape in surprise. Max instantly feels a pang of guilt inside his chest, _god he is such an asshole,_ but instead of apologizing like he knows he should, like he very deep down wants to, he just starts stumbling backwards and away from Daniel, who still stares at him like a kicked puppy. 

“Just leave me the fuck alone.”, Max hisses, hating himself the second these words leave his mouth. He’s never snapped at Daniel. Obviously, he never had a reason to and now he didn’t have a reason to either. Daniel was just being nice, for god’s sake. 

Max pushes the door to his driver’s room shut behind him, before he leans against it and slowly starts to sink down onto the floor. A silent sob shakes his shoulder and he feels so unbelievably _stupid._

He just fucked it all up and pushed away the only person who really cared to make an effort for him.

He is just like his father.

That thought makes him slam his fist into the ground, once and then twice and then again - just to feel something other than that terribly suffocating feeling in his chest. His hand will hurt later during the race, but that’s just his price to pay for being an awful person.

_I said some horrible things last week_ _  
__Messin' with my self-esteem_ _  
__Mixed up my priorities_ _  
__It's really startin' to weigh on me, yeah_

He doesn’t see Daniel before the race anymore. GP and the rest of the mechanics don’t look at Max or talk to him any longer than necessary. Max doesn’t pay attention to them either. He puts on his helmet and steps over the halo to slip inside the car.

Just before he is about to steer the car outside of the garage, ready to face the track, he looks over to his right out of habit. That’s where his father is always waiting, ever since the karting days. Always on the right side, never on the left. But that spot is empty now, there are no ice blue eyes staring back at him, colder than winter… and Max strangely doesn’t feel anything at all.

His hand does hurt during the race, but that thought is in the very back of his mind. For some reason there is a sense of freedom to driving, now more than ever. It feels just like back when he was a little kid, and he drove karts not for the sake of winning but for the sake of fun.

He actually finds himself smiling widely underneath the helmet when he parks the car in front of the P3 sign, then he hops out of the car and runs to leap over the fence and into the waiting arms of his team, cheers filling his ears.

It’s only much later, after the podium ceremony and a short talk with Christian (in which the principal hugs him and quietly says that he is proud of him) and the little briefing with his engineers, that it hits Max. He is in the now mostly empty garage, almost all of the team went out to celebrate the good results from this weekend and those who didn’t want to party have already packed their stuff and gone away. They asked Max if he wants to come along, after all it was him who drove one of their cars to P3, but Max just declined and after the fit he threw earlier, no one dared to press him into coming. So now he’s sitting alone on a stack of tires in the empty garage. The familiar smell of fuel and rubber hangs heavy in the air, mixed with the now cool breeze of the wind that gets carried inside.

It hits him in that very moment, when he watches a Renault mechanic rolling some tires past the RedBull garage, and it jolts through his veins like lightning; he doesn’t miss his father. 

He doesn’t. It’s weird to be here without him because Max is simply just used to the fact that wherever he is, his dad is too. He is used to have an icy presence next to him, to look over in fear of having done or said something wrong, or to see if his dad approves. So it’s odd to now know that space next to him is empty – but he doesn’t miss him. He doesn’t mind if his dad is here or not, in fact he actually enjoys the calming feeling of being alone.

He takes in a shaky breath, feeling almost nauseous when he jumps off the tires and takes his stuff to hurry to his hotel. He is glad that he doesn’t have to see any of the other drivers, especially not Daniel. Shit, he should really apologize to Daniel.

He falls against his closed hotel door with a deep sigh, breathing in the air that smells like laundry detergent and cleaning supplies. He just throws his bag onto the soft looking couch, and heads to the shower. He doesn’t even know what time it is – he sat in his drivers room after the race for what felt like hours, first listening to Daniel rummaging through his stuff in the next room and then leave. When Max eventually gathered up the strength to get outside, the garage was empty and the sun was starting to go down. Now it’s only low in the sky, tinting the room in red and orange when he steps back out of the bathroom, wet droplets that clung to his hair falling down onto the shirt he hastily threw on.

He doesn’t care to turn on the lights, despite it getting darker and darker, and for some reason he just sits down in front of the bed instead of laying onto it. After some while he dares to grab to his phone and open it, heart racing in a sudden fear of seeing a message from a person he doesn’t really want to hear anything from. To his luck – or shame? – there is only a text from his mum, as usual, congratulating him on his race. He texts her back and apologizes for replying so late. He smiles when he sees that she sent him a picture of a burning candle – she always lights one for him before every race, she says it brings luck. Max has never believed it, but it makes him smile every time anyway. Then he aimlessly scrolls through his Instagram, watching the race highlights that the F1 account posted and liking a few things. He stops his scrolling when he sees the new post from Daniel. It’s a picture at what seems like some rather fancy restaurant with his parents. He has his arms fondly wrapped around his mother, and his dad sits next to him with a smile while he holds some drink.

He hesitates about liking the picture at first – are you allowed to like a person’s post after you told them to leave you the fuck alone? – but then ends up double tapping the picture anyway before he turns his phone off and carelessly throws it onto the grey carpet next to him.

He’d like to take phots with his family like the one that Daniel posted, but he knows he won’t have that. Not only because his parents are divorced and don’t want to be in the same room anymore, let alone go out for dinner, but he also knows there is no point to it.

There is no point in taking a picture of something you don’t want to remember. 

Max thinks back to the time he was a little kid, maybe ten years old and they went to a restaurant. Everything went well, until his dad started yelling at the waitress for messing up a simple thing in his order. He remembers that people started looking at them weird, and his mum getting red in the face as she tugged at Jos’s sleeves, hissing at him to stop. Of course Jos didn’t and just kept humiliating that poor woman over a mistake that could have easily been pointed friendlier. Max would have rather been swallowed by a hole in the floor than sit there for any minute more, but Jos wasn’t bothered by the fact that no one wanted to eat anything after that anymore. Max tried to comfort Victoria who was crying, but only got yelled at for it.

Those are the kind of stories that fill Max’s childhood and he feels straight-up ashamed by them all of a sudden. 

He lets out a shaky sigh and leans his head back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling, watching the shadows dancing over it. The faint breeze of wind rustles through the curtains and caresses his skin as he listens to the sounds from outside being carried up into his room. He sits and stares, just like in his drivers room, mind racing but somehow completely empty at the same time. He doesn’t know anymore. He fears the next time he’ll see his dad and after all, Jos isn’t banned from every race. He will be back with Max sooner or later and he’ll probably be just worse than before, pissed off that someone had the audacity to keep him from controlling his son. Controlling. That’s exactly what his father is, what he does. Kind of ironic because all Max ever wants is freedom. 

He flinches heavily when suddenly someone knocks onto his hotel door and his head snaps up, realizing that it’s dark in his room, just the barest of light shining inside from the streetlamps outside. How long did he sit here for again? The person knocks again and for a second, Max’s heart stops at the thought of it being his dad although he shouldn’t be here, but Jos has never cared about what he should or shouldn’t do anyway.

Max’s phone beeps with a new message and he reaches for it, hands shaking. He breathes out in relief when he sees it’s a text from Daniel. He actually could’ve guessed that it wasn’t his dad; Jos never knocks with just his knuckles.

_Daniel, 10:56 p.m._

_Hey, it’s me. Can you let me in, please?_

Max swallows but gets up, feeling a little dizzy as he walks to the door, opening it to find Daniel standing in front of him, eyes softening when they land on Max and Max comes to wonder if he looks as shit as he feels. He turns around without saying anything, the lights of the hallway too bright for his eyes that are used to the darkness and walks back to sink onto the couch he threw some of his stuff on earlier. His back kind of hurts from having sat on the floor so long. Daniel closes the door behind him and follows Max until he is standing in front of the sofa. Max looks up from where he was staring at his fiddling fingers and barely makes out Daniel’s face in the dark, a stripe of light falling over it. 

“Max, I’m sorry”, Daniel starts carefully, voice low and Max’s eyes snap back to Daniel’s again. “I was an asshole. I didn’t know that- that it was your first day without your dad. Which is stupid, I don’t even know how I didn’t notice that he isn’t around but-“, Daniel stops his uncharacteristic rambling and bites the inside of his lip. 

Max opens and closes his mouth like a fish for a moment. “You- what, no. _I_ was the one being an absolute asshole, _I_ should apologize…I had no right to yell at you like that.”, his voice is hoarse and sounds so small in the otherwise silent room. He shakes his head, looking down because he doesn’t feel like he deserves the understanding look in Daniel’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Daniel chuckles but the expression on his face stays serious as he slowly comes closer. “You don’t need be sorry for anything. I was being annoying as always to be fair…apologies for that again. If I would’ve realized then I wouldn’t have pressured you, obviously.”

Max glances up, blinking when he feels his eyes burn for some reason. He hates that the breath he lets out sounds like a quiet sob. He is twenty, he isn’t going to cry because his father wasn’t at the race today, what kind of future-world-champion is he even?

“Sorry”, he wipes at his eyes furiously. “Fuck, you must think I’m some stupid little cry baby, sorry”

Daniel makes a sympathetic noise and sits down next to him, two fingers tilting Max's chin up carefully. 

“You’re not a crybaby, Max. I would never think that of you…you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”, he says firmly, honest eyes searching Max’s face. Max huffs out a breath.

“Right.”, he grumbles bitterly and then tries to swallow the lump in his throat. Before Daniel has the chance to protest, Max presses out: “I didn’t miss him. Not once the whole day. I- It’s weird but.…”, he feels his shoulders shake with the sudden goosebumps running down is spine. “I didn’t miss him.”, he repeats, whispering because his voice is too broken.

“Am I a bad person for that? He is my dad, I shouldn’t- I should-“

Daniel pulls him into a tight embrace, a nearly pained expression on his face. “God, no. You’re _not_ a bad person, Maxy. You’re not. It’s alright, breathe.” 

Max allows himself to lean into the hug, against Daniel's chest as a warm hand rubs down his arm while the other stays on his waist. Securely, gently. 

"You are not a bad person for that.", he repeats, thumb brushing over Max's skin where the sleeve of his shirt ends. "You aren't, and you drove fantastically today because it was _you_ out there, no one else."

Max isn't quite sure if he understands what Daniel is trying to tell him with that and blinks, staring at the black ink of _shine on_ tattooed on Daniel's upper arm. 

"Look… your dad always puts a lot of pressure on you and yes, F1 is practically the definition of pressure, but everything combined… it may have been too much. That's alright, Max, it's _okay_ to take a step back sometimes, to shift a gear down. Nothing and no one can go full throttle the entire time without getting tired out. See it as a.. refuel, yeah?"

Max wants to lean out of their hug, about to tell Daniel that _no, it's not okay because standing still means no progress and no progress means losing. He isn't a loser._ But Daniel doesn't let him and instead keeps Max pressed against his chest like he knows that if he just holds Max tightly enough, Max will eventually learn to accept it without every blockade inside of him locking every thought that he counts as weak out. 

Sometimes Max finds it scary how well Daniel seems to know him. 

He doesn't know what to say, because where the hell should he start? Is there even such a thing as a start or end to this? He has lost sight of it all. 

Daniel's breath faintly tickles his hair when he speaks quietly. "Tell me the first thing that comes to your mind when I ask you about your race today. What's the first emotion that comes close to describe it?" 

For some reason right in that moment a german song pops up in Max's head, one that Victoria and him used to listen to some while ago when she came to visit him and they drove down the streets at night, blasting this song too loud for the late hour. 

_Ich hör sie sagen 'du musst etwas werden, du musst etwas sein'_

_Ha, okay - ich will frei sein_

"Free.", he mumbles then, listening to Daniel's rhythmical heartbeat.

Freedom. What a dream - maybe he'll have it one day. 

Daniel nods against the top of Max's head. "And why?" 

Max feels his throat go dry, fingers clinging onto Daniel's shirt tighter. 

"I don't know.", he says, but it's a lie and they both know it. He knows exactly why. Deep down, he has always known and yet he always chooses to not let it into his mind. 

He still can't say that his dad is not a good person. He still can't let go of him after everything and it still hurts him to cut off his dad even if it's just one small piece after the other, even if he knows that that is what he needs to do. 

He still can't get himself to admit that he is better off without his father. _God, that's so pathetic._

The sudden sob shakes his shoulders and tears in his throat, coming out chopped-off and broken. He presses his hand over his mouth, trying to stop his crying but it's no use anyway; it's like a dam broke. 

Daniel cradles him even tighter and lets Max cry against his chest, strong arms holding him up like a life vest and keeping him from drowning. 

"Shh, it's alright, you're alright. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. You're okay, Maxy, shh.", he whispers softly, kissing Max's forehead so tenderly that Max feels his heart burst with the guilt that he doesn't deserve this, he really doesn't. 

But Daniel keeps on holding Max like he does deserve it, even long after his sobs eventually died down, instead exhaustion taking over but Daniel doesn't let go, not once. He is still whispering sweet-nothings, hands rubbing down Max's back soothingly. 

And when soft lips murmur against his temple "it's going to be okay, I promise." it makes Max think that maybe, he can learn how to love. 

How to give and receive it, how to finally let it in. 

He wants to know love so, so desperately. 

Maybe he will, someday.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The quotes of the german song are from 'Juju - freisein'
> 
> Translation:  
> I hear them say "you've got to become something, you've got to be something" Ha, okay - I want to be free
> 
> As always i hope you enjoyed this work and that you're doing good!
> 
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated 😇
> 
> All the love,  
> Alessandra


End file.
